𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who completely loses all his bones the second the apartment door clicks shut. for a guy who spends his nights dodging gunfire and playing the tough guy, he turns into pure liquid muscle on your couch. he will collapse his entire upper body across your lap, burying his nose into your waist with a heavy, shuddering sigh that practically shakes his whole 220lb frame just to let the stress bleed out.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is an absolute nightmare to literally everyone else in gotham, but turns into a complete marshmallow the second you’re in the room. he’ll spend his entire afternoon barkin’ orders, snapping at tim, throwing sarcastic insults at people, and scowling like he hates the entire world. but the moment you walk through the door? his whole posture softens, his jaw unclenches, and he’s pulling you onto his lap before he even finishes his sentence.
→ His family genuinely does not know how to react to seeing a guy who normally looks like he wants to punch a wall softly nuzzling his face into your hair and whispering sweet nothings like he wasn’t just screaming two minutes ago.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who treats you like you’re made of spun glass. he’s got massive, calloused, scarred hands, but the way he holds you is absurdly soft. he loves resting a heavy palm on the back of your neck or softly thumbing over your bottom lip while he’s distracted.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD… who is an absolute menace for press-and-hold kisses—soft, lingering presses into the crook of your elbow, your shoulder blades, and right behind your ear where he knows it makes you shiver.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who displays affection in the most quiet, domestic ways imaginable. he’ll spend hours sitting on the edge of the bed going on long, passionate rants about whatever classic literature he’s reading that week, his eyes lighting up while he explains every character arc to you.
→ he’ll also hand-craft custom leather bookmarks for you, carefully stamping your initials into them or burning little designs into the corner just so you have something special for your own books. he remembers every little detail about your routine—always making sure your favorite tea is stocked, pulling the covers over you when you fall asleep on the couch, and leaving tiny, messy love notes tucked into your jacket pockets before he goes out on patrol.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... whose dates are a seamless mix of domesticity and ridiculously thoughtful effort. he’s not taking you to some uptight, five-star restaurant where he has to wear a stiff suit and fake a smile; he’d much rather take you to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall diner at 2:00 AM, sitting in a vinyl booth and sharing a plate of fries while you both talk about nothing. or he’ll plan late-night rooftop dates with a heavy fleece blanket, hot coffee in thermos cups, and a quiet view of the city skyline, keeping his arm wrapped tight around your waist so the cold wind doesn't even touch you.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is a total whiny submissive for you behind closed doors. all that red hood arrogance completely evaporates the second you tease him or make him wait. if you hold back or drag your fingers along his skin without touching him where he wants, he turns into the whiniest man on the planet. he’ll bury his face in your neck, whimpering softly, pulling on your waist, and begging you to just give in.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who melts the second you take control. you can pin his wrists above his head—even though he could easily overpower you—and he will just go completely pliable and soft into the mattress. his eyes get dark and glassy, his breath hitched, softly pleading with you, “please... tell me what you want me to do.” he is so embarrassingly praise-hungry that running a hand through his hair and whispering a soft “good boy” against his ear will literally send him over the edge, leaving him clingy and helpless for the rest of the night.
𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... takes loving you so seriously it’s almost stupid. he will send single-word replies to bruce and dick, but sends you three-paragraph rants about a book he’s reading or petty complaints about anyone other than you. he leaves his softest oversized hoodies at your place on purpose just to see you drowning in them while making coffee. he’s a man so deeply in love with you that he doesn't even know what to do with himself, and he’ll never let a second go by without making sure you know it.
A/n never falling for the “Jason is rough” propaganda. He is the most submissive, whiny, and pathetic man ever I said what I said.
synopsis: Jason Todd is a virgin
wc: 1178
tags: virgin Jason Todd, first time, orgasm control, blow job, moaning, whimpering, msub, fdom, smut
Jason was a virgin. And honestly, that fact didn't fucking bother him at all. Like, a big ol' "don't give a shit plus don't give a shit" situation - a guy whose interests and thoughts revolved around… other things, okay? He wasn't about to hit you with some lofty, Aristotle-level bullshit. It was more just him being aware of some kind of line separating him from relationships and all that.
Basically, the fact that he just didn't want to "find" someone in that way.
At least, that's what Jason thought. About his independence from intimacy, from all those base desires that Father would've definitely condemned during Sunday confession.
And then you showed up. Like something out of some cheap romance novel that old ladies with smoker's voices try to peddle at train station kiosks.
And suddenly those "little things" weren't so little anymore. Because he wanted to be the one for you - and along with that came wanting to be cool and all that shit. So his lack of experience really… stressed Todd out. And that's putting it mildly. Because you, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.
It fucking showed way too much in your movements. In the way you kissed him, making his knees literally fucking tremble. He'd get hard like some snot-nosed teenager the second you slid your tongue into his mouth.
The tension in his groin was so sharp and hot that he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and sink through the floor right then and there, because Todd couldn't hold back a single sound.
That pathetic fucking whining when you pulled away after a few minutes. All his usual sarcasm would fly right out of his head - all those dumb little phrases that usually made you laugh.
He was just… shaking. Turned on, breathing hard, and dreaming of more - which you wouldn't give him right away. Jason didn't fucking know at what point he was supposed to slip a hand into his pants.
What if he rushed it and scared you off?
And you weren't helping at all. The way you pulled away from him so easily, then went right back to the movie like you were purposely teasing him.
On that point, he wasn't wrong. You loved seeing that mix of lust, pain, and involuntary worry on his face way too much.
This time was no different.
Your tongue slid along his lower lip. You bite it, pull Jason along with you, and he follows like a guard dog on a short leash. He doesn't even realize when he ends up on his back on the mattress - his head just softly hits the pillow at some point, and you're on top of him.
Right on his fucking hips.
Jason instinctively reaches for your waist, wanting to squeeze, to slide under your shirt - but you catch his wrists before he can even close his fingers.
— "Uh-uh," — you say quietly, and that tone makes everything inside him flip the fuck over.
Holy fucking shit.
You guide his arms up toward the headboard - one, then the other, - and Todd lets you. More than that - he doesn't even think about resisting. He just looks at you, completely mesmerized. Watches as you slowly let your hair down, taking off that black satin ribbon. And then you wrap it around his wrists, tying them together. Not too tight - just enough to make a point.
He could still easily flip your positions, after all.
Jason jerks, bucks his hips, because yeah. He's turned on, dreaming of you finally touching him. You grant that wish, placing your palm just above where his cock is straining rock-hard against his zipper.
— "Don't rush."
— "You..." — Todd starts, voice raw, then immediately shuts his mouth because your fingers just traced over his crotch through his jeans.
He arches off the bed, a pathetic moan ripping from his lips. That fucking whimper - the one he's ashamed of right up until he sees your reaction.
Just how much you liked those two sounds.
— "You want me to keep going?"
— "Yes," — he wheezes, probably before you even finish the question.
— "Just 'yes'?" — Jason lets out something like an animalistic whine. — "Come on, Jay. Be polite."
— "Please," he breathes out in a whisper. Then, when you don't move, he adds: — "Please... touch me."
You lean forward, catch the hem of his shirt, and pull it up, exposing his stomach - hard, with a trail of dark hair leading downward.
— "Good boy." — That word alone makes him fucking choke. — "Stay still."
You pull down the zipper on Jason's jeans, and he presses his head back into the pillow, freezing.
He wants to snap back at you.
Say something about how he's not a dog that obeys so easily.
But in that moment, you yank his jeans and boxers down together, and his cock - hard, already wet at the tip, and impossibly sensitive. So sensitive that just the touch of air makes Todd's whole body jolt.
You wrap your fingers around him, stroke from top to bottom and back, and the man loses whatever thread was connecting him to reality. His hips buck up on their own, fucking into your fist, and he moans so loud he startles himself.
— "Quiet. Unless you want the neighbors to find out what a loud boy you are?"
Not that your neighbors would give a shit - the walls are fucking thick enough.
He doesn't answer, because the next second, you go lower.
You do the thing that breaks him completely.
Your mouth, - hot and wet, - is on Todd's cock without any warning. Your tongue slides around the tip in a circular motion - so slow, fucking deliberate, that his calves cramp up. You take him into your mouth, pull back, then sink down again, deeper, almost all the way.
Jason howls.
Not moans - fucking howls, head thrown back, bound hands clenched into fists, sweat rolling down his temples. He whines, begs, says something completely incoherent. From that jumbled mess, you can only make out:
— "More… more, please…"
And you speed up. Within seconds, you grant that request - but then you slow right back down, turning this into pure torture.
— "You're… you're doing this on purpose," — Jason nearly sobs, his voice full of pure desperation. — "Fuck... I'm gonna…"
You run your tongue from the base to the tip, slow, with pressure, feeling the vein pulse under his thin skin. The man lets out a ragged moan, and you sink down a little deeper. You tighten your lips, creating suction.
— "Oh, fucking hell," — he whispers, head thrown back.
Another whimper escapes his lips. Each following movement of yours turns that sound into a full-on whine.
You feel his cock twitch in your throat. See his stomach muscles contract a second before Todd freezes completely - and then arches off the bed like a bow, coming.
in your arms i succumb. (sub! romantic yandere jason todd x gn! reader thought)
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist ! ; discord server !
i'm sorry guys, but i can't for the life of me write for a dominant jason todd when i know this man would GROVEL on his knees, i just know that one of the most notable traits he got from bruce is the tendency to MELT into the arms of his darling sweetheart, no hesitation, nothing but him immediately burying his head on the crook of your neck, the heat of his breath a warmth you're accustomed to. you can just simply cup your palms onto his face and his cheeks will puff up, he'll glare at you softly, but his hands are on your wrists, PINNING IT IN PLACE so you wouldn't let go. additionally, if you're on the couch, on top of him, bodies interlocked, chest pressed against each other to the point it's like both your heartbeats are in sync.
i just know you'll hear the smallest whimpers from him whenever you gently press kisses on the scars across his face, and his meaty legs will clamp on to your waist while he's busy releasing breathy moans... i just know it... i know his neck will be all perspired, wet with a sheen of his sweat and the glisten of your saliva atop purplish hickeys, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps the moment your lips make way for the tip of his ears.
and i swear in all my heart that he's sensitive there...
no, he is not the first to initiate affection. no, he can't find himself be as openly, as physically close to you— but goddamn, behind closed doors, when the only audience to your nightly endeavor are the twinkling stars and the drunken haze of the moon, he's a fucking wreck. it doesn't matter if he's physically stronger than you or not. it doesn't matter if you're taller, or shorter, or if you're a goddamn metahuman with powers which could easily decimate him— he will fucking bite his lips and pant like a pathetic dog at your smallest actions (taking out the trash, cutting up vegetables for dinner, hell, even just yawning in a particular way)— it'll have him wait impatiently for you to notice how hard he's gripping the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white, eyes all diluted, staring profusely at the sweat on your forehead, at your focused stare on whatever it is you're doing.
no, he's not very vocal about his wants and needs in his partner (he still struggles with that part in your relationship, voicing out what he truly wants without scathing sarcasm at himself) and if he is, he does it in a joking, dismissive way— but you know just how easily he'd fold the moment you'd invite him to come sit at your lap and bury his face on your neck. maybe you'll mutter soft praises into his ears, telling him how good he's been for the past few days, no news of his violence being broadcasted in the tv, yet; and that you'll reward him, you'll pepper him in the sweetest kissed and let your fingers linger on his reddened skin, which'll get him so riled up, so desperate that he whimpers at all your promises, looking up at you, mouth agape, hearts gleaming in his eyes like you hung up the stars—
or you can tell him that he's been bad, that you're fucking disappointed in him, and you can laugh that snarky laugh of yours that he adores: the one with that snark infused into your voice; your gentle fingers can suddenly pull at his scalp until he's wincing, or your fingers can hover over his airway until you're almost pressing deeply,, threatening to cut his air supply off. you can punish him by leaning away when your lips are about to touch his bitten ones (and he's in near tears because he wants to kiss you so badly), you can even fucking slap him, then pinch his quivering cheeks in between your pointers and thumb, and he'll still find a way to whine when he's noticed you're still holding back on your punishments. his hands will guide your own to wrap around his neck, to treat him like some scum, to take away his thoughts and his doubts; succumb to the pain and pleasure induced by your heavenly fingers.
yeah, jason todd is a silent yearner. a deviant little shit who will stumble drunkenly into your apartment: not high on alcohol, but on the fantasies of how you'd react, how you'd punish him accordingly once you realize he's involved himself in another crime lord's schemes. now he's all bruised up and bleeding after a chase, but instead of wincing his way to your day, he's secretly all excited to feel you accidentally press against the purplish-yellow marks all over his skin when you're patching him up. he'll kiss his teeth at the sting, bite too hardly on his lips, but what comes after next is a tiny, little moan when your eyes look at him with that familiar, saultry gaze at what he knows await another night of your routinely discipline on him.
he hopes that you'll have him count more than 15 slaps this time...
tl;dr: i don't just want the red hood who's a fucking nightmare to any criminals who loiters the streets (or any threats who dare to threaten your safety: that's where he gets scary, when he becomes serious, all too willing to break a couple of bones 'til it's pulverized to near power, maybe even tear a bunch of teeth out. he's something else when he's the one domineering over everyone else), i also want the jason todd who can be all vulnerable, albeit hesitantly, to someone who knows the right buttons to press, the right words to say, that turns him into pudding.
who, for once, is the one to follow orders, who doesn't have to think for himself when he's at his lowest moments and needs the comfort of familiar arms. i want fics of him being a menace, yes, still being intimidating to anyone who threatens the safety of the gothamites, but i also want the whiplash of him only answering obediently to the calls of one person. a jason todd who doubts if he ever deserves the safety, the warmth of being in another person's arms, whose thoughts of these easily fades away the moment he's on his knees, head laying on your lap while your fingers detangle his hair and his hands kneads your thighs, knowing more than ever that his time with you is the only time he can ever fully be weak.
another note: credits to ciricearts (ily) for feeding us jason todd fanart; bec of u i thought of this on a whim. also, this applies to every member of the batfamily, but jason and bruce (more on the brattier side) especially. there's just this unspoken feeling about seeing typically strong people who momentarily reduce themselves into the smaller person (metaphorically), knowing they're safe in someone's arms.
(AFAB reader, more subby, comes fast, eager Jason at the people's request 🤲)
IF you praise Jason while he's inside of you, he will come first.
Jason thinks that this is a design flaw. You... disagree.
You discover it by accident the second time you have sex. The first time is negligible—Jason was nervous about being intimate with you and doing a good job, and he was a big ol' virgin, so obviously when you stroked his face and told him what a good, sweet boy he is, he blew his load. Obviously.
The next time has him seeking you out after patrol. He's freshly showered and maybe a little worn out, but he misses you. Moreover, Jason is prepared to fuck you. Show you that he can take charge and not rut on you like a dog. Jason's one of the most disciplined people ever. Certainly the most disciplined that you've known. You're telling him that you sink onto his cock and all of a sudden, that control swandives out the window? Impossible.
No, Jason knows better this time. He's going to be gentle, obviously, but he's focused on your pleasure. He finds you in bed already but not asleep because you can't sleep until he's home, not completely.
He prowls the bed, trying to hone his instincts. Having sex with you is just like any task he has assigned. Everything narrows to this moment. All of Jason's attention is on making you come first.
You greet him softly. This is where Jason is tricked. Jason forgets what a soft voice belies. You don't even realize you're doing it. You tell him you missed him and kiss him hotly, kiss down his neck, rake your hands through his hair. You tell him what a good man he is, keeping Gotham safe, protecting you and everyone in it, and Jason is hard.
Damn. Jason had meant to keep this on his terms. Get hard from your pleasure. But you catch him off guard like this, warm and soft and free with your praise. All you have to do is spread your arms and welcome Jason in and his fat cock is pushing against the waistband of his boxers.
He shudders as you scratch the nape of his neck, nip his ear. But then Jason clears his head, fights through the thick honey of your presence. No, he has a mission. He intends to complete it.
Jason throws himself into your body instead. He knows his size is all-encompassing. You're swallowed up in his arms, caged in between his shoulders. Yes, good. Jason wants you to feel overwhelmed in the best way, the way he feels when he's with you.
You say faster, so Jason goes faster. You say slow down, so Jason slows down. You say rub my clit, so Jason rubs your clit. You pull him closer with your ankles digging into his back, so Jason steadies himself and fucks you deeper.
And then Jason forgets the lesson. Forgets what makes you so persuasive.
And when you gasp in his ear, "you're fucking me so good, angel," Jason feels his gut tighten dangerously.
"Wh-what?" he asks, hips stuttering.
You grin, eyebrows contorting in pleasure. You grab his face with both hands. Jason's brain is sending him warning signals.
"Ease up," you tell him gently, so Jason eases up. Your grin grows.
"You're such a good listener," you say. "That's why you fuck me so good, Jason."
Gut tightening. Jason wrangles his urge to empty his balls in your pussy. No, he's being good! He's a good boy, not a good dog. Good dogs can't do anything but whimper and come and come.
You scoot closer, forcing him deeper into you. Jason shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, bring his face close to yours. Jason braces himself with his hands on either side of you.
"Yeah, you're so good." You pet his hair. "You were made to be inside of me, honey bunches."
Briefly, Jason thinks about if the roles were reversed, if it was you inside of him. He thinks you'd probably be able to hold off better than he can. This is actually fucking impossible. You're so wet, pussy a hundred fucking degrees. And when you make him slow down, Jason feels the drag of his dick against your walls, and everything in his brain turns to static.
"If you wanna come, you can come," you say sweetly. Danger, danger! You look up at him, having the gall to look innocent. There's no way you don't know what the hell you're doing.
"Wanna make you come first," Jason says, voice stronger than he feels.
You hum sympathetically. "But you're so sensitive, baby. Can feel you shaking."
Jason shakes his head, locks in. No, he's going to make you come first. He starts to fuck you in earnest, his thrusts hard enough to make you squelch against his cock.
And then you go in for the kill.
"You're so pretty," you say. Jason's eyes flutter. Your gaze turns predatory.
"Yeah, pretty and good and strong. You're my big, strong guy, aren't you? You thought about this all day, I bet. Thought about how you'd make me feel good. You don't have to think about it anymore, sweetpea. All you need to do is get hard and come inside of me."
Jason shakes his head again. No, no, he's not going to give in. He can hold it. He can be good.
"Good boy," comes your sweet voice. "Good Jason. You fuck me the best. No other guy could do it for me like you can. You'd tear open anybody who tried, wouldn't you?"
Jason nods eagerly even though his balls feel tight. Yes! Yes, he would! If you told Jason to bite, he'd only ask how hard. He'll drown his muzzle in blood for you.
"Uh-huh," you say knowingly. "I love you, Jason. I love you so much. I'm yours. And you're mine."
That does it. The last of Jason's control shoots into your cunt in hot spurts. Jason tears up out of frustration and pleasure. His mouth is open in a silent shout.
You grin and keep to yourself how easy it'll be to get knocked up off of your boyfriend's fat cock. A few sweet words and he's coming. That's when you start to believe that this is a habit, not an outlier, for your virginal boyfriend.
"Fuck," Jason says, lashes thick with tears. "Fuck, fuck. I was s'posed ta hold it."
You coo, wipe his tears with your thumbs. "It's okay, baby. I don't mind. We can practice."
Yes, you'll practice, alright. Practice how many times you can make Jason come inside of you. And if Jason's truly bent out of shape about not making you come, well, you have no issue with training him how to eat you out.
(The first time Jason makes you orgasm before himself, he gets so excited he comes.)
hiii, I love ur writing, could u do a fic where Jason Todd is a mafia boss, and the male reader is his most loyal 'guard dog'? Jason literally treats him like one—giving him orders, rewarding him, keeping him close. Maybe there’s a moment where he calls male reader his 'dog,' and male reader just smirk and say, ‘Yeah? And who put the collar on me?’
thank u sm!
“BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT”
pairing. Sub!Mafia Boss!Jason Todd x Top!male reader
synopsis. In Gotham's underworld, Jason Todd holds the city by its throat. But every king has a dog at his heel—and M/n is loyal, brutal, and always watching. Jason calls him a mutt. But he forgets one thing—who put the collar on who? — 2.3k
Jason Todd ruled Gotham’s underground like it owed him blood. And in many ways—it did.
The Red Hood Syndicate didn’t move without his order. Rivals were ghosts before they made it to sunrise. Contracts vanished. Witnesses disappeared. And yet, for all the stories about Jason Todd’s brutality, his trigger temper, his high body count—
There was one man even the worst of the underworld feared more.
His shadow.
His guard dog.
You.
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
"You’re late."
Jason’s voice was sharp, not raised, but biting all the same as you stepped into his office, the double doors clicking shut behind you. You didn’t answer him. You never did when he was in one of his moods—irritable, pacing, hands stuffed into his pockets, a fresh line of blood drying down the corner of his jaw like he forgot to clean it off.
Or didn’t care.
He looked you up and down once. His mouth twisted slightly.
"You smell like smoke."
You stared, unbothered. "I burned a man alive in his own Porsche tonight. You wanted it done quiet."
He laughed. Dry. A little sharp around the edges.
“Messy job for quiet work.”
“Your note said ‘make it hurt.’ So I did.”
Jason stopped pacing. The city light from the penthouse windows caught across his eyes—green-blue, sharp as broken glass. He licked his lips once, slow. Then, “Come here.”
You didn’t hesitate.
Your boots echoed on the polished floor, each step solid. Intentional. Controlled. You moved like a weapon kept in a velvet box—danger tucked into civility, teeth beneath tailored suits.
Jason sat on the edge of his desk as you approached. Still calm. Still composed.
But his fingers twitched once where they gripped the edge of the wood. You saw it. You always did.
“You want to be praised?” he asked, tilting his head, voice half-daring.
"No." Your tone was even, flat, as you stopped in front of him. “I want you to stop testing me.”
Jason’s smile twitched. “But you’re so good when I do.”
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
It was like this. Always.
The tension. The push-pull.
He gave the orders. You obeyed. He treated you like property—his muscle, his executioner, his dog. And you let him.
But Jason, arrogant as he was, had always mistaken obedience for submission.
And that was going to cost him.
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
His hand lifted to your collar, two fingers brushing the sharp seam of your dress shirt. His knuckles grazed your throat, casual. Thoughtless.
But that’s where his control ended.
Your hand closed around his wrist.
His eyes jumped to yours, sharp with surprise—but not fear. Never fear.
“You like to call me your dog,” you said, low and measured. Your grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make him still. "Throw me scraps. Snap your fingers. Expect me to sit."
Jason’s breath hitched. Just a little.
Your voice dipped, threading a heat beneath the threat. "You like pretending I belong to you."
He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His mouth was parted, his pupils wide, and every inch of him was screaming yes.
"So let me ask you something, Todd." You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice dark with knowing.
"Who put the collar on me?"
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
Jason shivered.
It was subtle—but it was there.
The slow exhale. The twitch of his thigh muscles. The flush creeping into his neck that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with being caught.
Owned.
He swallowed thickly. His hands clenched into fists against the desk.
And you—still gripping his wrist—lowered your mouth to his throat and let your teeth drag just beneath his jaw. Not biting. Not yet.
Just reminding.
Of what?
Of everything.
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
He jolted slightly under your touch. A sharp inhale. A curse under his breath. Then his voice—thin, almost petulant:
“You’re supposed to take orders.”
Your smirk was razor-edged.
“I do. Because I want to.”
Your grip dropped. But you didn’t move back.
Instead, you leaned in closer.
Jason didn’t flinch. He never did. But his breathing was heavier now, pulse hammering against his throat—visible. Vulnerable.
"You bark all day, but when I get too close," you whispered, dragging your hand down his thigh with deliberate slowness, "you start to sound like a mutt that wants to be bred, not obeyed."
Jason made a sound in his throat. Half-growl, half-gasp.
"Fuck you."
You grinned.
“You’d beg.”
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
He hated how much it was true.
He could sit on his throne all day—snapping orders, collecting blood money, running the city from his penthouse and dark alleys—but when you stepped into the room?
He was something smaller. Simmering. Waiting.
He wanted you to tear it out of him. To push him back onto the desk, force his legs open, make him say please.
You didn’t even need to touch him to get him there. He was already half hard just from your voice in his ear.
And you knew it.
You always fucking knew it.
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
“You don’t really want a guard dog,” you said, low against his throat. “You want a muzzle. You want a leash you can wrap around your own throat when no one’s looking.”
Jason’s fingers twitched again—this time reaching.
But not for a weapon.
For you.
And you let him. Just this once.
You let him grab your shirt, let him yank you in like he was desperate for something he couldn’t name. Your hand slid up the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, pulled his head back until he was looking up at you—eyes hooded, breathing uneven.
You watched his mouth part.
You watched the fight bleed out of his body.
And then, just loud enough to ruin him—
"Good boy."
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
The leash comes first.
Black leather, clean and heavy, pulled from your coat pocket like you were always planning to use it.
Because you were.
You knew Jason would mouth off. You knew he’d call you his dog again.
So now you’re going to make sure he was your bitch instead.
You’re sitting on his desk, legs spread, Jason on his knees between them—cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Still pretending to be angry. Still acting like he’s got pride left.
"Take your shirt off."
He hesitates. Barely. Then obeys. Peels it off like it’s armor, like maybe the fabric will hold him together.
It won’t.
You pull the collar tight around his throat and let the buckle snap into place. His breath catches.
"Doesn’t it suit you?" you murmur, thumb brushing the pulse at his neck. "No tie. No suit. Just a collar. That’s how I like you."
Jason mutters something low under his breath.
You grab his jaw. “What was that?”
His mouth twists, defiant. So pretty like this. “Fuck you.”
You smirk. “You’ll get there.”
You shove two fingers into his mouth before he can talk back. He chokes slightly, but glares up at you through his lashes. You drag them deeper, until his throat works around the intrusion and his spit starts to run down his chin.
"You wanted to talk back?" you murmur. "Then earn the right to use your mouth."
Jason moans around your fingers, eyes fluttering.
His knees shift. He’s already grinding down against the floor, trying to rub the ache building in his pants. You grab a fistful of his hair and yank—his eyes fly open.
"Are you hard just from choking on my fingers?" you whisper. "Are you going to cum from being used like a toy, Jay?"
He shakes his head. He wants to say no. But you curl your fingers around the collar, tug—not hard. Just enough.
He whimpers.
"That’s what I thought."
You unzip. Jason’s eyes drop, hungry. You slap your cock against his cheek, watching the weight of it sink in before gripping his hair again.
"Open."
He does. Mouth wide, eager.
You sink in slow—and he moans. Not a groan. Not a grunt. A real, ruined moan, like he’s been waiting for this all week.
"You love this, don’t you?" you growl, hips pushing forward until he gags. "Love being on your knees like some two dollar whore. Mouth wide open. Ready to be used."
Jason’s face is dripping. Spit down his chin, lips stretched wide, pupils blown. He nods. He nods.
You grab the leash.
Just the feel of it in your hand makes him shudder.
You wrap it around your fist and pull. Not hard. Just enough.
"Good boy," you murmur.
Then you start fucking his throat.
He chokes.
Of course he does.
You don’t stop.
You let him gag, let his shoulders shake, let his tears spill over—he loves it. He’s rutting against the floor now, desperate, whining around your dick like you’re the only thing he needs to breathe.
"You gonna cum just from getting facefcked like a bitch?" you hiss.
Jason nods—fast, frantic.
You laugh. Spit in his mouth. Slap his cheek. Pull the leash again and hold him there while your hips snap forward with brutal rhythm.
When you pull out, he’s wrecked. His jaw is hanging open, tongue out, spit dripping down his neck. And he looks gorgeous like this.
You grab his face. Make him look at you.
“Say it.”
He pants. "Wh-what?"
"Say who owns you."
Jason hesitates—just a second.
Then: "You."
"Say it louder."
"You fucking own me," he moans. "I’m yours. I’m your fucking dog."
You grin.
"Now beg to get fucked."
He doesn't even pause.
“Please,” he gasps. “Please use me. Please, I—I need it—I’ll be good, I swear, just—please.”
And just like that, Jason Todd—the Red Hood, the most feared boss in Gotham—is on all fours, begging for the dick you’re about to be giving him.
Face red. Lips swollen. Hair stuck to his forehead. He’s panting now, thighs trembling as he tries to hold himself together, cock hard and leaking with no relief. The collar glints under the light, tight around his throat, leash trailing from your fist like a reminder.
Jason Todd doesn’t look like a mafia boss anymore.
He looks like a dog.
And he’s about to get treated like one.
“Get up,” you say.
He moves. Clumsy. Obedient. You shove him over the desk, chest flat, ass up, back arching perfect for you. The position makes him groan.
His pants are already gone. You never gave them back.
His thighs part without being told.
Ready.
“You were begging so sweet a second ago,” you murmur, palming his ass. “What happened to all that pride, Boss?”
Jason bites his lip. Doesn’t answer.
So you slap his ass. Loud. Sharp.
He jolts. “F-fuck—!”
“You forget how to talk?” you growl, leaning in close, letting your weight press into him from behind. “You forget who owns this?”
Your fingers drag down to his entrance. Wet. Twitching.
Jason gasps. “N-No—no, I know—I know—”
“Then say it.”
You shove two fingers inside him without warning. He screams. His back arches off the desk, legs shaking instantly.
“Fucking say it.”
“You—y-you own me,” he moans. “Please, please—I'm your fucking toy—”
You laugh against his ear.
“Yeah, you are.”
You press your cock to his slicked-up hole, teasing, dragging the head against him until he’s shivering and whining, back arched beautifully. The moment you press in—
He sobs.
"F-fuck—you're big—slow, slow—"
You don't go slow.
You grip the leash and pull as you sink in, one sharp thrust that fills him to the hilt. Jason’s scream gets buried in the desk wood, his fists clutching the edges like he’s trying to ground himself.
"You’re taking it," you growl. "Every inch. Just like you begged for."
Jason moans—high, desperate.
You start fucking into him, pace unrelenting, cock pistoning in and out as his hole squeezes around you so tight it hurts. He’s already leaking onto the desk, leaving a wet spot beneath him.
“Gonna cum like this?” you hiss. “No hands, no touch—just getting bred like the good bitch you are?”
He nods frantically, words lost in sobs and moans.
You feel the tremble before you hear the whimper.
Jason’s voice cracks. His whole body shudders. And then—his cock twitches untouched, shooting over the desk as his body clamps down around you.
He’s crying now. Quiet, desperate.
“C-Came—fuck, I came—”
You don’t stop.
“You think we’re done?” you growl, voice filthy. “You begged for it. Now fucking take it.”
You grab the leash, twist it around your fist, and pull his head back as you thrust harder, pounding into his overstimulated, raw hole until he’s a sobbing wreck on the wood, dripping and broken.
You feel it building. Heat low in your spine. Jason’s still twitching, every thrust making his legs shake, tongue hanging out as he begs for more, whimpers turning breathless.
“You want it?” you growl. “Want me to fill you up?”
Jason nods frantically, barely coherent.
“Fucking say it.”
“Please—please cum in me—want it—need your cum—breed me—!”
You snarl, bury yourself to the hilt, and let go.
Hot, thick, endless—you spill into him like you’re trying to mark him from the inside out. Jason gasps, back arching beautifully as he milks you, his hole clenching greedily with every spurt of release.
The air reeks of sweat, sex, and ownership.
And he loves it.
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
He collapses the second you pull out, limp and twitching, cum leaking down his thighs in thick streaks. His face is flushed. His eyes are barely open.
You wipe him clean with your handkerchief. Gently.
You kiss his shoulder once. Then his temple.
He breathes slow. Even. Peaceful.
And the collar? You don’t take it off.
You brush your fingers over it softly, smirking.
“You looked better on your knees than you ever did behind a desk.”
Jason—wrecked, dazed, marked from the inside out—manages a breathy laugh.
Okay I got carried away lmfao but I think this is some of the best smut I've written??? Maybe. Lemme know. Thank you anon 😌😚
Submissive Jason Todd x f!reader
“Please, please, please, please.” You whinedinto the quiet of your room, the only other sound from your soft whimpers was the buzz coming from the vibrator between your legs.
The pink little vibrator pulsating against your clit working in tandem with the clear silicone cock stuffed in your cunt and still it wasn't enough. With an annoyed huff you shut off the toy and pulled out the dildo, tempted to throw it across your room.
“Bullshit, it's all fucking bullshit.” You mutter to yourself as you clamber off your bead and pull your shorts back on. You stomp your way to the kitchen, passing your roommate on the way.
Shit. Jason wasn't supposed to be home.
Fuck it. Whatever.
“Doin' alright?” He asks, a snark to his tone that lets you know that he knows. Your cheeks flush.
“Shut up.” You mutter with a scowl before digging in your fridge for something to eat. You still ache between your legs. Jason snickers and you're debating on if throwing a container of cream cheese at him would be worth the fight.
“Ah, c'mon.” Jason looks at you from over the back of the couch. That stupid beautiful smirk on his face. You want to wipe it clean off.
You grab a snack and begin walking back to your room.
“Y’just need to get laid.” Jason teases and you stop. Dead in your tracks. You're too pent up for his snarkiness right now.
“What did you say?” You turn and scowl at him. Your snack is long forgotten on the arm of the couch. Before you can really think logically your hand is fisting in his hair, yanking his head back to force him to look at you.
And then he whimpers. An honest to God whimper and it's like hearing gospel. His eyes flutter, lashes dashing across his cheeks. Your brain malfunctions for a second before your pussy throbs at the sound.
“Say it again.” You narrow your eyes. You grip on his hair tightens and he visibly swallows. Pretty blue eyes meet yours and your knees almost give out.
“L-let go,” Jason stammers, the tips of his ears turn red and a flush dances across his cheeks.
Pretty.
“No.” You tell him. “Now be a good boy and say it again.”
Jason squirms on the couch. He could easily overpower you, without breaking a sweat he could take your hand from his hair and put you over his knee. That mental image makes your stomach hot. And yet he doesn't.
“Yes, ma'am.” He looks up at you, desperate and flushed. “S-said ya just need to get laid.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah? And who's gonna do it? You?” You almost laugh at him mockingly. You can see the way his hands grip his thighs and you wonder what they'd feel like between your legs.
“Yeah…” Jason breathes out. “If you'll let me.”
“You think you can even handle that? When was the last time you got laid?”
Jason can't handle the way you're mocking him, poking fun at him and his inexperience. His hand rubs over the front of his shorts, needing some kind of friction to relieve the growing pressure, and he lets out a shaky moan.
“Please, I'll be good. I'll be so good.” He begs.
That's all it takes.
Your hand leaves his hair, Jason whines softly, to grip his chin.
“I didn't say you could touch yourself. Did I?” You question. Your voice is low, demanding, it makes Jason shift on the couch again. He whines but moves his hand to his thigh again, you can see the way his fingers fist at the material of his shorts.
“No-” he mutters.
You smirk. There's a sense of power having big, bad Jason acting like an eager puppy in the palm of your hands.
“No, what?” You demand.
“No, ma'am.” Jason quickly corrects himself.
“Good boy.” You smile. Jason melts into your touch.
With a hum your hand leaves his face and grabs the front of his shirt and without a single protest you drag him to your room. You sit him on your bed and gesture for him to take his shirt off. He complies wordlessly.
“Aw, you really are a good boy, aren't you?” You coo with a smirk. Jason nods, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You hum in satisfaction.
“Say it. Say you're a good boy.”
“‘m a good boy.” The flush across his cheeks gets darker. Your eyes are half lidded now as you look him over.
“Sorry, what was that? Speak up.”
“I'm a good boy.” Jason says louder, more confident before clearing his throat.
“That's right,” you pat his cheek with a small laugh, “you are a good boy.”
“Fuck..” he whispers, eyes fluttering again when you give his cheek a firm pat.
You hum again and start undressing. Jason stares in awe. You discard your shirt and shorts off to the side before putting your hands on Jason's shoulders. Slowly you push him back onto your back until he's laying back.
You trail your hands down his chest, finger tips lightly grazing scars that make him shutter, until you reach his hips. You grab hold, firm and demanding, and pull up until he's lifting them.
“Good,” you say softly before you slide his shorts and boxers slowly slowly slowly down his legs until they're mixing on the floor with your own clothes.
Jason's already painfully hard. Thick and throbbing and veiny, his tip a pretty flushed pink. The ache in your pussy almost hurts at the sight.
Slowly, in a way that makes Jason whine again, you climb on your bed on top of him. Your thighs straddle his. You suck in a breath when his tip hits your slit. His hips jerk upwards, trying to rut into something.
“Ah-” you press your hands to his ribs in an attempt to stop him. “I didn't say you could fuck me yet, did I?”
Jason shakes his head. “N-no, no. I'm sorry. Sorry, ‘m sorry.” He mumbles. You smile.
“It's okay, you're just excited. Aren't you?” He nods this time. His hands reach for your thighs but hesitate.
“Can I?” He asks softly, looking up at you with pleading eyes. Your heart hammers, cunt clenching around nothing.
“Mhm, you can.” You tell him.
Jason's grip is firm but gentle against your legs. He trails back to your ass, gripping at the meat, before moving up to your hips. He's almost reverent in the way he touches you and it makes the coil in your stomach tighten.
“So soft..” he mutters. “You're so soft, wanna touch you. Please.” He begs.
But you won't give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
“Be patient, pretty.” You tell him. Jason melts at the compliment.
Slowly you sink down. You tease him, running your already wet cunt across the length of his cock. Your eyes shut when his tip hits your clit. You hum a moan and you clench again. In an agonizingly slow motion you continue rubbing your pussy across him.
“Please,” he begs again as he moves his hips again. “‘m gonna-”
“Aht,” you cut him off. You move your hand to his throat and hold on letting your thumb trace his Adam's apple. “You're not going to do anything until I say you can.”
“O-okay, okay. Sorry.”
A part of you feels a pang of guilt for making him wait but your orgasm from earlier is building up again, you're so close.
“Jus’ like that…” you breathe out and Jason's not sure if you're talking to him or yourself so he stays still. He's using all of his focus to not cum from the pussy job you're giving him.
And then his hips jerk involuntarily, his flushed tip hitting your clit just right, and he gasps, “Shit, sorry-” he pants but your first orgasm hits. Your hips still and your gasp melts into a sinful moan.
“Fuck, did you just-” Jason groans as your slick runs down his cock.
“Mhm.” You nod as you come down.
“Gonna make you do it again. Please, lemme-” he pulls back and lines himself up with you. The ache to be stuffed is too strong to deny him this time. So you nod again and Jason slides himself into you inch by inch.
“Oh, fuck,” Jason groans.
“Care- hah - careful.” You manage to breathe out after Jason's knocked all the air from your lungs. “‘s big-” you whine as he splits you open.
You're so full as he bullies his way into you. The moan you let out is like music to Jason's ears. This was what you were missing.
“‘m careful, I'll be careful, promise.” Jason tells you. “Won't hurt you. You're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.” His big hands grip onto your waist.
As Jason bottoms out inside of you your fingers dig into his chest, hissing at the pleasure.
“Go slow.” You tell him, needing to feel every sinful inch of him. He nods and, for the first thirty seconds, he listens. But soon his thrusts start to lose their rhythm and he starts going faster.
It's overwhelming and feels good, too good. Your hand comes down on his cheek, sharp and startling. Jason moans and you hold onto his jaw.
“I, hah, said slow.” You manage to tell him between pants.
It only takes a second for the words to register in Jason's cloudy brain but his thrusts slow. “Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. I'll be good, be so good.”
Your thumb rubs his cheek and you nod, “I know. You're just,” you moan, “jus’ wanna make me feel good, huh?” He nods.
“Good boy. Such a good boy.” You assure him.
Every thrust brings an obscene squelch between the two of you, and each drag of his cock against your walls brings you closer closer closer. You lean back, hands on Jason's thighs now, and he hits that perfect gummy spot deep inside of you.
Your orgasm rips through you, your breathing stops, the moan you let out has Jason wondering if he's still dead and in heaven. You soak his cock again, slick running down his balls.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” Jason mumbles, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. All you can do is nod and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Baby, shit, ‘m gonna cum. So close, feels so good.” He repeats. With a shaky hand you grab his balls and squeeze firmly.
“Yeah?” You pant. “Gonna fill me up, you're gonna be good and stuff me full?”
“Fuck-” he moans, loud and deep. His balls squeeze tight in your hand, his grip on your waist is almost bruising as he comes, his cock throbbing against your walls with each rope of cum he lets out.
With a pant he loosens his grip, smoothing over your skin as a silent apology for being so rough. After catching your bearings you slide off of him, both of you gasping at the sensation. You lay down on your side next to him, full and satiated. You let your eyes close as you run one hand through his sweaty hair.
“Good?” He asks, still breathing heavily.
“Mhm. ‘s good..” you answer him.
Jason turns on his side to face you and buries his face into your chest, wrapping a big arm around your waist effectively pulling you closer to him.
“Told ya.. just needed to get laid.”
@batsycline69 @soulsforsales @stormy-tenderheart @gothicbatgirl @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @pato-spoiler-27 @maaaahhhiii (I'm bad at tagging sorry guys)
well hello! what do you think about jason’s tits (those that he does not assume that are very big titties)?
Well my dear reader! I think that his tiddies don’t get enough attention. Like- imagine this:
Jason and you are just chillin’ on the couch and you wanna lay your head on a soft surface of sorts. And what do you know! His tiddies are just within reach. So, you just plop your head on there and pretend that you don’t know what your actions are doing to him. You can hear his heartbeat speeding up (he told you once before how sensitive his chest is and you just happen to put your head extremely close to his nipple. So your cheek is just moving his shirt where it lays as it just barely grazes his skin and it’s making him shudder and squirm in his seat. You smirk to yourself at his reaction).
Another time is when you feel kinda stressed and wanna just squeeze something. So, you just come up from behind him while he’s minding his business in the kitchen, and just casually cup his pecs and start squeezing and massaging them and playing with his nipples from over his shirt, twisting, pulling, and pinching while he subtly (it’s not subtle to you at all, you can read him like an open book) shakes and lets out little gasps where he stands and starts to lean against the counter for support as if to will himself to not completely submit to you and let you take him right then and there on the kitchen floor.
It’s gotten to the point where every time he spots you in the vicinity, he prepares himself and expects you to just come up from behind him and start your assault on his tits. (he doesn’t hate it, he’d just like a warning when it happens)
Every time you compliment him on having such plush, soft tits while teasing him, he quietly whines saying that they’re not tits or something (it doesn’t take long to convince him otherwise.)
I think it would go something like this:
“Look at how wonderful these are,” you say as you squish them together. You’re sat atop his lap as he lays back on the couch, shirt off. “I could play with these all day. Such pretty tits, don’t you agree, Jason?”
His breaths come out in soft gasps as you continue to twist and pinch at his chest.
“Not tits,” he gasps out while lightly shaking his head, “They’re not.” He’s tightly gripping onto your waist as you unhurriedly grind atop his groin which causes a soft mewl to escape his lips.
You grin at his reaction and grab one of his hands and place it on one of his tiddies and squeeze.
“Yeah, they are.” You say as you use your other hand to guide his chin to make him glance down. “Look at them, Jay. Aren’t they pretty?”
His face is red at he looks down at his chest, his breath catches in his throat as he takes a proper look, full of hickies and bright red bite marks from your previous ministrations. Your grinding isn’t helping at all. He might come in his pants if you keep that up. He moans as you keep up with your actions. Curious if you could get him to cum from just touching his chest and light pressure on his groin.
A reedy sound brings you back to the present (the color on his chest from your attention was distracting.) Lost in your thoughts from admiring your work. He looks mesmerizing. Eyes dilated so much that you can barely spot the teal of his irises, his eyes appearing almost completely black. His face is practically the color of his helmet, it’s almost impressive. Shudders leave his body as he completely sinks back onto the couch.
You use the hand that grasping his chin to point it to the side as you lean in to leave more bruises on his neck, your grinding unfaltering. His moans increase in volume as you bite and suck on his sweet spot right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
The hand that’s on your waist twitches, his mouth opens in a silent moan as he gasps loudly while throwing his head back on the back of the couch as he gives a full body shiver, cum staining the inside of his pants.
You stop your actions as you take a minute to admire the fucked out look on his face.
You lean your face close his ear as you say, “Think your tits are pretty now, Jay?”
He shivers from the air brushing against his ear. He nods with a quiet whine, sounding out an almost inaudible “uh-huh”, unable to get any more words out.
You grin in victory, “There you go.”
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
I think I went over board. It was only supposed to be a few sentences long.
